


Off Screen

by sailorina



Series: Off Screen [1]
Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorina/pseuds/sailorina
Summary: “You should have just drawn the heart,” Robbe complains as he hands Sander the marker.“But then it wouldn’t be perfect.”
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Series: Off Screen [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576852
Comments: 7
Kudos: 184





	1. 12/21: Zaterdag 13:08

**Author's Note:**

> A series of off-screen moments from wtFOCK that were implied or left us wondering whether or not they happened. Most chapters will take place in between various moments of wtFOCK Season 3.
> 
> Robbe accepted Sander's invitation to his home to meet his mother. The boys spend the morning packing some of Sander's things for his return home. After packing their things, they head into town for a few hours first.

The perfect morning was the only possible follow up to a perfect night. Was the flatshare a general mess? Yeah, it was but that was a problem easily solved. Most of the guests had left later that night, closer to two or three in the morning when Zoë’s maternal instincts kicked in and she could sense that both Robbe and Sander were getting a little tired. Not that it mattered, the two had crept away several times that night with Jana or Moyo to bring them back to the crowd. Those few stolen moments of privacy kept them going, though, until the flatshare had emptied and they spent the night together filled with tired giggles and the soft breathing that brings in the warmth of sleep.

Daylight spills in through Robbe’s curtains, casting a haze of warmth over the room. Though, it isn’t daylight-daylight, it’s that afternoon warm-hot daylight that makes your eyelids heavy. After some stirring against the mattress, Robbe shifts under the blanket and rolls onto his side. He collides with Sander who is breathing softly, still taken by dreams that grip him into lingering sleep. Careful not to disturb his boyfriend, Robbe’s palm presses against the mattress and he slowly urges himself to sit. 

He peels back the comforter, pulling his body forward until his feet touch the floor and he’s seated on the edge of the bed. The palms of his hands are good for rubbing tired sleep from his eyes and unsuspecting, Robbe doesn’t realize that Sander’s eyes had since blinked open, watching the brunette with all of the world’s love. Just before Robbe can stand, the bleach blonde crawls closer from behind and fits his arms around the other’s torso in a tight squeeze, forehead pressed against the definitive curve of Robbe’s shoulder.

“Hey, did I wake you up?” Robbe whispers softly so as not to disturb the lingering haze of peace over the bedroom. 

“No,” Sander lies as his forehead and nose drag against the back of Robbe’s neck. “Where are you going?”

“I need to get a shower in. And then we should eat. I was thinking of getting a gift for your mother so I don’t show up empty-handed. Will you help me pick something out?”

Sander can’t help but snort. His mother was an easy woman to please, but Robbe wanted to impress her and he wasn’t going to deny him that opportunity. “I will. I’ll make something for us to eat while you shower and then we can go. There’s something I want to do while we’re out, too.”

“Can I ask what it is?”

“Secret.” Pressing his palm between Robbe’s shoulder blades, Sander gently pushes. “You go, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” 

They share a kiss so brief and fleeting that for either of them it doesn’t quite count as a kiss, but they have a busy day ahead of them. Sander ends up cooking for everyone at home, spreading mayonnaise over bread and layering slices of ham and cheese. Croques, a sandwich that has always held a fond place in his heart, even more since Robbe entered his life.

Appreciation spreads between the flatshare as Sander’s sandwiches are a hit. Milan, Zoë, Sander, and Robbe eat together though Sander chooses not to sit at the table, propped against the counter like some kind of too cool to sit guy. No one mentions Senne’s absence, it’s too soon and Zoë might not take kindly to it though there’s a thick sense of something is missing lingering in the air. 

“Okay,” Robbe says after he finishes off his sandwich, wiping his hands on a napkin. “What are we supposed to do first? Before we go?”

“Oh, that.” Sander raises both of his eyebrows once, quickly, and then departs from the room with Robbe in tow. The shorter of the two had taken hold of Sander’s arm, gripping it as he remains close behind his boyfriend who returned to Robbe’s bedroom. Sander quickly grew accustomed to moving while Robbe superglued their bodies together. In the corner of Robbe’s room sits Sander’s green duffle bag. He kneels down in front of it and pinches the zipper, peeling the bag open to expose the contents. Aside from his clothes, at the bottom of the pile, sits a heavy lock. Sizeable. Rummaging between boxers and socks, it takes him a few minutes to find it and the marker he’d brought along for this purpose.

Proudly raising it so it catches the light, he turns his eyes to Robbe. “This.”

“A lock?” Pushing back his hair, the puzzled expression on Robbe’s face is masked with a smile that seems slightly nervous.

“Not just a lock, it’s the lock. Our lock.”

Robbe is still not getting it but the excitement in Sander’s eyes, bright as they are, forces the smile wider. “I don’t get it, Sander.”

“We’re going to add our lock. Do you know what I’m talking about? Liefdesslotjes? It’s by the Museum of Contemporary Art. Come on, really?” Sander is not only shocked but he’s speaking quickly, “It was designed by this guy. Uh… Bart de Beule. It’s been in Antwerp since 2012.”

There’s nothing more beautiful to Robbe than listening to Sander talk about the things he’s passionate about. He’s not surprised that Sander knows exactly who the artist is or when the lock-fence-thing went up but his chest gets tight as he stares at the curve of Sander’s excited smile. “Oké, oké! So what do we have to do?”

Sander’s fingers wrap around Robbe’s wrist and he pulls his boyfriend to sit down in front of him, passing the heavy lock from his palm to Robbe’s. “You get one side and I get the other. I’ll let you start,” the bleach blonde hums as the marker is transferred next. Robbe is bashful, by no means creative or an artist, so he stares at the lock with a blank expression for several minutes. Sander is patient, though. His own inspiration can be hard to find sometimes, so he leans back on his elbows in a half-lying down position while he waits.

With the utmost level of concentration and focus, Robbe sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. His brows furrow together as the marker is uncapped and the felt tip is pressed against the smooth surface of the silver lock. 

R & S 

This part is easy. 

The next part is much harder as he drags a half circle on one side around the letters, brings it to a point, and then follows suit on the other side. “... Fuck.”

“What?”

“This is the worst heart I’ve ever drawn in my life!” Robbe holds the lock up for Sander to see and the bleach blonde can’t help but snort again, reaching out to take it though Robbe resists.

“No, wait, I can fix it!”

“No, no, no, you’ll just make it worse! Let me see!” Sander is speaking through laughter and doing his best to pull it from Robbe. He succeeds, staring at the misshapen heart that’s too wide on one side and awkwardly pointed with a wide smile that crinkles his eyes in the corners. “It’s perfect.” And he means it, and Robbe knows he means it. “Let me have the marker, it’s my turn.”

“You should have just drawn the heart,” Robbe complains as he hands Sander the marker.

“But then it wouldn’t be perfect.” 

Robbe’s heart stops beating in his chest. Sander isn’t looking at him, focused on writing on the difficult side of the lock but Robbe could cry. He scoots closer to see what Sander is writing but the blonde immediately turns away. 

“Not until it goes up. You don’t get to see yet.”

“That isn’t fair, you got to see my side.”

“I didn’t ask you to show me,” Sander retorts, noting that he’d messed up a little but he doesn’t care. Robbe can’t win. Once his side is finished, both hands cup the lock protectively. “Close your eyes so I can put it away.”

Rolling his eyes, Robbe turns away from him with a slow shake of his head. “Isn’t this a little excessive just for a secret?”

“Secret. Surprise. It’s for you, does it matter?” Sander pushes himself up, finding the marker cap that had fallen on the floor near Robbe’s leg. He picks it up, covers the marker and pockets both items. Now close enough to Robbe, he lays a kiss against his boyfriend’s forehead. “Come, let’s go put this up.”


	2. 12/21: Zaterdag 20:42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This feels like I’m coming into something special,” confesses Robbe, watching as Sander turns the knob to his bedroom door.
> 
> “You are,” Sander adds, using his shoulder to guide the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the continuation of Chapter 1, both taking place on Saturday 12/21. I hope you guys like it! I had a little bit of writer's block but I wanted to get this one out so it followed the first one pretty quickly. As always, thank you for reading and I appreciate your support.

Following the Christmas party and an afternoon in the city, Sander and Robbe arrive back at Sander's place for the first time. Robbe is expected to meet his mother and see the place where Sander grew up to be the man that Robbe fell in love with. You can learn a lot about someone based on how they treat their mother, their home and their bedroom.

It’s funny how you can draft an image of someone’s life as you get to know them. Everything that Robbe made himself believe about Sander’s home life or the state of his house had turned out to be utterly incorrect. There is nothing particularly remarkable about Sander’s home from the outside. It’s all so very average that as they come to a stop, Robbe’s head tilts slightly as though questioning. “This is it?”

“What, were you expecting a mansion?” Sander teases. It’s in a block attached to other homes, three levels that boast three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The hallways are narrow and somewhat long but there’s a charm to his place, the kind of charm that Sander carries with him. It’s in this moment that it hits Robbe, that he’s now so much a part of Sander’s life that he’s going to get the chance to see it all. His roots. His foundation. Every secret part of him.

Robbe’s feet don’t move when he wills them to.

“Are you coming?” Sander asks, now standing at the door though Robbe still stands nearest the street. “She’s not going to bite and I already promised to keep my clothes on. Come.”

And so Robbe does, practically floating from the streetside to Sander’s side, and in his nervousness, he seeks his boyfriend’s hand. Their fingers intertwine together like vines and Sander offers a squeeze so tender and loving that Robbe can ground himself in the moment. He doesn’t notice Sander fumbling with his key until the door is opened and at long last, the interior of Sander’s house is exposed to him.

Both boys enter the stillness of the household, Sander already working on taking off his shoes by leaning on the wall. You’d think that someone who faced this much trouble with laces and shoes would switch them out by now, but not Sander. He lives for the aesthetic.

Robbe’s shoes are much easier to slip off and he places them respectfully on a nearby rack. The entryway to the home boasts a pretty mirror and a small end table with flower illustrations painted on dark oak wood. Most likely an old family item. There’s already so much Robbe wants to see and explore, eager to learn about Sander through small things littered in the home.

“Mama?” Sander calls out in a loud voice, startling Robbe at his side which prompts a grin on his part. Oops.

Footsteps from someplace far off capture Robbe and Sander’s attention alike. When his mother enters the room, she’s already smiling softly, clad in a comfortable t-shirt and a pair of jeans. The look on her face is so different from what Robbe remembers: one full of worry, face etched with lines of concern as she stroked the forehead of her son while they sought medical assistance. For Robbe, she almost looks like an entirely different person. His heart hammers loud and hard in his chest, so much so that he’s sure she and Sander can hear it crash thunderously in his ribcage. 

“Hello,” Robbe’s introduction is anything but smooth and he reaches out for a handshake only to be pulled into a gentle hug. He misses his mother for a moment, allowing his arms to lift and return the embrace. “I’m Robbe.”

“It’s so good to meet you properly.” She releases Robbe and pulls her son into a hug, too, one that Sander easily fits into. It’s obvious their relationship is something good and Robbe suddenly recalls that Sander’s mother’s croques are one of the first things he ever learned about his boyfriend, right after learning about his love for Bowie. Funny how those things come about. 

“Welcome to my house.” Sander’s attempt to break the awkward tension doesn’t go well, he only makes himself nervous upon realizing that Robbe is here. In his house. In his untouched, unknown spaces. “Can I give him a tour?”

“You don’t have to ask. I’ll get some snacks ready for us in the kitchen and then we can all sit and talk. How does that sound?”

Sander kisses his mother’s cheek, a show of gratitude and acceptance. Then he reaches for Robbe’s hand and before his boyfriend can respond, he’s whisking the brunette away and into the next room. In the living room is a framed pencil sketch obviously done by Sander. It’s of David Bowie, hanging near an old record player that’s been polished and dusted with care.

“That’s so cool,” Robbe announces as he pulls away from Sander, gravitating toward the spot.

“We’ve had that record player for years. I think we got it at someone’s estate sale years ago--”

“No, that.” Pointing his chin upward, Robbe nods to the hanging picture. “How long ago did you make this?”

Sander’s cheeks raise as he smiles, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck with an open palm. “A year ago, maybe?”

“And your mom framed it and hung it up?”

“I know you think you’re my number one fan, but she has you beat,” Sander teases with that perfect smile as he moves to stand behind Robbe, chin on his shoulder. “Do you want to see my room? We can’t take long.”

“Do you want me to see your room?”  
“We can’t take long.”

“I know, you said that already.”

“I’m reminding myself.” Pecking Robbe’s cheek, Sander sets his hands on the shorter male’s shoulders and steers him down the hallway and up a set of stairs. Sander’s bedroom is the second door on the left. You know it’s his because there’s a very tacky, very aged sign on the door that says KEEP OUT - ARTIST AT WORK. Most likely a gift from his number one fan that was given to him years ago. 

“This feels like I’m coming into something special,” confesses Robbe, watching as Sander turns the knob to his bedroom door.

“You are,” Sander adds, using his shoulder to guide the door open. 

Sander’s bedroom is everything Robbe would have expected it to be. It’s cool. His bed sits in the corner of the room and not the center, providing more space for him to set up an easel that’s positioned to face the window for better lighting. There are several drawings and sketches pinned and taped to the walls and, naturally, some of them are Robbe. Most of his work is done at school in a small studio but here, at home, are where his ideas can flow from his fingertips in the limitless hour of two in the morning when nothing and no one can stop him. There are portraits of his mother, Bowie, Robbe. A random dog on the street. A girl window shopping. Sketches of trees and benches and meadows, drawings of the morning sun and the night glow of the moon. 

Robbe doesn’t have time to look at anything other than this hanging gallery of Sander’s creative spirit captured on paper. He walks into the room and wades through t-shirts that litter the floor (he hasn’t noticed them), drawn to a sketch of Sander’s mother that he offers intent focus on. He’s captured more than just an image, but Sander captures her soulful eyes and her loving smile. “Holy shit, Sander…” 

“Too much?” asks the artist as he drags his fingers through whisps of snow-like hair.

“No. This-- these are beautiful.”

It’s like he’d never heard those words from someone other than his mother before. He breaks into a soft smile, his eyes on Robbe and only Robbe. To Sander, in spite of all the drawings and paintings and whatever else in the room, the real piece of art here is his boyfriend. “When we finish with my mom, we can hang out here for a little. I’ll take the pictures down so they aren’t staring at us.”

The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Robbe turns his head to face Sander and he bursts into laughter, nearly doubling over with hysteric giggles. “I didn’t even think of that!”

“I think about it all the time and I wonder why I do this to myself. Come, let’s go talk to her.”

They head downstairs. Some odd number of hours pass.

Three people sat around a small, rounded table with cups in their hands. Coffee for Sander. Tea for Robbe and Sander’s mama. There’s a soft glow from the bright moonlight that seeps into the room, making Robbe seem ethereal and other-worldly. Angelic, even. They’ve been talking for over an hour, the topic of conversation somewhat somber: Sander’s episode. Though Sander gave his mother as many details as he could, there was something about Robbe’s perspective that really hit home for her.

She’s near tears but she tells Robbe to keep speaking. They tell her about the penthouse, about their date night. Sander remembers feeling itchy and anxious and like he was hot but he can’t remember much else. He can’t remember leaving, either. The last thing he recalled was lying back down next to Robbe and hoping he could fall asleep. He remembers his worry, his panic, that something bad was going to happen.

The whole time, Robbe and Sander hold hands. Across the table, on its surface, gripping one another for support. 

“By the time I got there, I was late. I think it took me over an hour to find you, I honestly can’t remember. But Britt was there and she prevented me from coming to you.”

Sander remembers hearing this from Robbe before, and when he glances at his mother, he can’t help but shift his eyes away just as quickly. There’s still the creeping shame he feels for what happened.

“So that’s why you seemed, and not to sound harsh, desperate. To come closer.” Sander’s mother feels bad for not noticing sooner that Robbe was important. 

“It’s okay,” Robbe answers, his thumb gliding over the hills and valleys of Sander’s knuckles, “The focus was getting Sander safe. I wish I had been a little more… assertive. Pushy. But he ended up in a good place. A safer one.”

Sander is watching Robbe’s thumb now, entirely focused on it. 

“I have to thank you,” Sander’s mother says, softly as she sets her mug down. Though she knows things between the two got worse before they got better, she owed it to Robbe that her son was back home. “You found him in a place none of us would have thought to look. How did you know?”

Blue eyes lift quickly to Robbe’s face, pupils shrinking with panic.  
“I just had a feeling,” Robbe answers. He doesn’t have to look at Sander to know. He can sense it. “We had gotten into a fight and made up at that spot before. … It made sense that he might be in the place where we rebuilt in the first place.” 

Relief. Sander smiles as he lifts Robbe’s hand, gently kissing his fingertips before he rests his forehead against Robbe’s gentle touch. This moment piles on so many others where Sander truly, without a doubt, knows that he is in love with the person he is meant to be with for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will likely be one that fills in the gaps of a moment in the wtFOCK canon and it will be marked with the time and date so you can place it within the timeline. :)


End file.
